


To Love Is To Die

by gahtheone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Police, Blood and Violence, Cameos, Dark Comedy, Drama, Explicit Language, Fiction, Gun Violence, Humor, Lies, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Organized Crime, Titles Taken From Songs, mafia, mature content, politically incorrect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29728812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gahtheone/pseuds/gahtheone
Summary: Beacon Hills is a beautiful, prosper city, where people is happy, there is no want for anything, and evil simply does not exist. Newly-appointed detective Stiles Stilinski calls bullshit with a capital B and a capital S just in case there’s need for emphasis (or in case the word is actually composed by two, he’s not entirely sure). The truth is, people are afraid, as the town is disputed by two families in a race of money and power, no matter the cost. But what Stiles doesn’t know is that there are actually more people willing to help him than he thinks, including the one man he likes, who lives a shady life and will not want him to find out about it. Derek doesn’t think it’s a risk worth taking.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Ethan/Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	To Love Is To Die

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back! This time joining the Teen Wolf fandom, specifically Sterek! I binge-watched the show last year and absolutely loved it. So, back in October, I started writing this new work, which I hope you like. Here's the thing: it's way more raw than my previous works. It touches mature subjects, such as violence and crime, and lots of cursing (I believe it's my first work of that nature). Reader discretion advised! As much as it pains me, no, this will not have smut. I have never written it, I did try, but it became too awkward so no. Apologies for that. Also, if by any chance you find anything offensive, I apologise in advance for that. While Sterek is the main pairing, there will also be others, such as Scisaac and Thiam, and will have various storylines that will somehow connect. Think of this as a television series. Oh! Chapters are 10k+ words long, and I will be posting every 3-4 weeks. I appreciate your understanding. The little "spoilers" at the end of every chapter are guarantee that the next chapter will be posted! I'm two chapters ahead so I can do this calmly, university takes most of my time, hence why I take so long. This is a hobby I enjoy, and I will do my absolute best to finish it. With all said, enjoy the first chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the song by Van Halen.

It was a sunny Thursday morning, with clear skies and fresh air, typical of the early days of spring.

Cameras flashed, reporters pushed one another as they yelled their questions, hoping to be heard and be answered (even if the chances of that happening were slim) and everybody else clapped. The building of the Beacon Hills Police Department was full of people who had their focus on two men standing on a small podium, made for that kind of events, in which an officer or any law enforcement worker was decorated for their services or an exceptional feat. This was the case for one officer, who stood awkwardly besides his father, the Chief of Police, and behind the Mayor, who leaned towards the microphone, tapped it with his finger to check the sound, and looked at the talking audience.

“Good morning everybody” he greeted with a small smile, but no one seemed to notice, for they kept talking. “Excuse me”. Noise. “Oh my God, shut up!” Silence. “Thank you. We are gathered here today to celebrate the capture of a dangerous man that terrorized the respectable families of this beautiful _peaceful_ city, kidnapping and asking for money, as well as robbing and murdering. Now I want everybody here to listen carefully when I say there is no place for men like him in our town!”

Everybody cheered.

“And his eventual downfall wouldn’t have been possible without a man whom I’ve known ever since he was a small kid, little ball of insufferable energy, and I used to be his lacrosse coach. I’m actually impressed, and a little dumbfounded, I mean, never in a million years would I thought we’d be standing here, I thought Greenberg was gonna make the promotion first! No, I’m just kidding, Greenberg, you’re stuck in that desk for as long as I am Mayor. Which by the way reminds me; let me make a small parenthesis here to announce that projects for the repair and maintenance of the Beacon Hills bridge were approved early this morning and should be starting tomorrow under my team’s supervision, as I promised during my campaign. Also I…”

“What the hell is he talking about?” the officer whispered to his father.

“He’s gotta sell himself well if he wants to get re-elected by the end of the year” the Chief replied, shaking his head.

“Oh, wow, I’m getting carried away!” the Mayor exclaimed. “Anyway, this ceremony is also special because this man, this brave, wild SOB is the son of our own Police Chief, a man I have the greatest confidence in, and a beloved hero for the good citizens of Beacon Hills”.

People cheered again, as the Chief gave the crowd a small smile and wave.

“Now, here comes the good part. This young man has potential. He has morals, and work ethic. There’s more to the eye than just the hyperactive spaz he seems to be!”

“I feel so insulted right now” the officer said.

The Chief shrugged. “I mean, he’s not wrong”.

The officer only had time to look at his father indignantly before the Mayor spoke again.

“So! With everything said, it is my greatest pleasure and pride to appoint officer Mee… Eh, Mi… My… Stiles Stilinski –for friends- detective of the BHPD!”

The now ex-officer, Stiles, stepped forward and shook the Mayor’s hand as the crowd and fellow cops clapped for him. “Coach”.

“Stilinski” he replied. “I still believe your name is some kind of child abuse but at least I made sure not to mess up the spelling”. He gave Stiles a badge. “Congratulations”.

Stiles glanced at his new badge.

_BEACON HILLS POLICE DEPARTMENT_

_DETECTIVE_

_MIECZYSLAW GENIM STILINSKI_

“Awesome”.

“And for the love of all that is good in this world, please do not make me regret this”.

“Mayor Finstock!” the Chief, Noah Stilinski, exclaimed. He was one of the most respected men in the city, having been responsible for solving his own cases in record time, and leading the campaign that helped several families affected by an earthquake thirty years ago, back when Beacon Hills was nothing but a small town in growth and he was only a young deputy, new to the force, but with a strong will to help others in need. Back then, he had been hoping he’d one day be elected Sheriff, but the town eventually expanded, becoming a prosper business emporium that had nothing to envy to other places where the elite brands usually located, and so the small police station evolved too, for the change justified a new police force. Sheriffs and deputies where replaced by Commissioners and officers, and of course detectives had to enter the picture. After Chief of Police Patrick Lockhart stepped down after the last election, claiming he’d rather die than work for a clown (fun fact: he did die the following month of a heart attack), Finstock saw appropriate that his replacement should be Noah. “Is that any way of treating one of my subordinates?”

“Oh great, you get to boss me around again like when I was little” Stiles half-heartedly complained. Needless it was to say he had moved out of his father’s house by the time he had entered Police Academy. He even had managed a small stint at the FBI as an intern, but his love of his home and need to give justice and protect the people there made him change his mind and return. His father was a cop, he knew some hard truths that challenged the one the Mayor in turn always gave the people on their first day in office: Beacon Hills is a beautiful, prosper city, where people is happy, there is no want for anything, and evil simply does not exist. Well then, newly-appointed detective Stiles Stilinski calls bullshit with a capital B and a capital S just in case there’s need for emphasis (or in case the word is actually composed by two, he’s not entirely sure).

The truth is, people are afraid, as the town is disputed by two families in a race of money and power, no matter the cost. Ah, yes, Stiles knew all about the Hales and the Argents. It wasn’t strange for him to always hear his father complain about how the town had had a chance to grow in a peaceful and truly prosper way, only for mob bosses to come and ruin everything. At least, that’s what he had understood if The Godfather had taught him anything about mob families. The Chief had one fact wrong, though: the families were natural from Beacon Hills.

“Bold of you to assume I ever stopped bossing you around” Noah chuckled. Before Stiles could complain, though, he yanked him into a big hug, making his son bury his face in his chest. “But for the record, I am so proud of you”.

“Thanks dad” Stiles replied, although his voice was muffled by the fabric of Noah’s shirt.

Meanwhile, Finstock turned again to the press, who had started taking pictures like crazy when they saw the father-son moment, with a manic grin. “Isn’t that nice? That’s a statement, ladies and gentlemen, that in the end good triumphs over bad, and that this city will remain being the haven I promised and got you for years to come! This is to make clear to everybody that there will be no place for dirtbags like Dimitri Yalkovich in Beacon Hills!”

Everybody clapped and cheered, and Finstock looked at them satisfied with himself. “Yeah, that’ll do” he whispered. “MARY!”

“I’m right here, Mr Mayor!” a small woman yelped as she rushed to his side. She seemed to be somewhere in her late thirties, had blonde hair that she had arranged in a bun, and wore small, square, red glasses and a blue blouse with big, white, semi-transparent dots. Her skirt was dark coloured, a mix of blue and black that Finstock always said it was one or the other colour every day (no, she didn’t have only one skirt, she just had similar ones to keep it formal at work), and her shoes were black and simple. She was Finstock’s personal assistant, and dubbed the “bravest woman” in the office for being the only one who never backed down when the Mayor yelled (which was a lot and to everybody, he once made the tough Town Hall guard cry), although it did scare her a few times. But she was too nice and to be quite honest, Finstock did have a soft spot for her, even though he would never admit it.

“Do I have anything else to do here?”

“No, sir, that would be everything for today” she replied after quickly checking the three-paged itinerary she had in a clipboard.

“Alright then! Let’s get the hell out of here” he said, grinning again, and giving the Chief and his new detective a wave. “Is there any time for some tacos on the way back?”

“I would have to cut some time off your lunch break or we’d be late to everything else”.

“Dammit!”

“But sir, why don’t you just have tacos for lunch instead of buying two meals?”

“Tacos for lunch-ARE YOU CRAZY? HAVE YOU MET ME?”

“There goes poor sweet Mary” Noah sighed, as he watched Finstock yell at the air while getting out of the building, because he would never yell at his assistant’s face, no matter what, and because he was only yelling for the sake of yelling, not because he was actually mad at her or anything. “I’ve told her many times to resign but for some reason she loves her job too much”.

“Aren’t you sure that maybe she loves Coach?” Stiles asked, having watched the whole exchange too.

The Chief scoffed. “Hah, that’ll be the day. I don’t think Bobby thinks of anything except lacrosse and alcohol”.

“Why did we elect him again?”

“He doesn’t sugar-coat anything, is brutally honest and people like him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wins the election again”.

Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but was immediately silenced by the feeling of somebody tackling him from behind, making him make an “oomph” noise.

“BRO!” said person exclaimed, excited.

Stiles turned around to see the smiling face of his best friend Scott McCall, also known as _Mister Irresistible Puppy Dog Eyes on the Cutest Face on Earth_ , longest nickname ever given to a person and courtesy of Stiles himself because why the hell not. They had known each other ever since they were five years old. Twenty years later, they were still attached to the hip, with a mutual love often confused as romantic rather than platonic.

Scott was an interesting case. Full of surprises. He had joined the force at the same time as Stiles but had been promoted to detective a year before him. _“I’m promoting McCall to detective and the sky hasn’t fallen nor has it started raining fire as I thought which is actually quite disappointing”_ Finstock had said at the time. _“Detective McCall! My God, I truly hope you aren’t as unobservant as you seem, because that would only mean disaster for everybody. No, Greenberg, stay on that desk!”_ It certainly wasn’t a disaster per say (he did get suspended for a week for accidentally arresting Mary, thinking she had stolen the box of money at the local pharmacy when the actual thief had been right next to her), although CCTV footages tended to be quite confusing to see. But other than a few incidents, he was doing a very good job, and Stiles was super proud of him.

Well, now it was Scott’s turn.

“I can’t believe it! Do you know what this means? We’re gonna be partners!” he happily said.

“Yeah, truly historical. Testicles left and right are back together again. So, Stilinski, I see you’ll finally work with McCall to make Beacon Hills, say, a better place? God help us all”.

Stiles turned around to see Jackson Whittemore, District Attorney or, as he called him, _Beacon Hills’s Royal Asshole even though he can be kinda nice when he wants to so I’ll consider him a friend for now._ The man was richer than probably everybody in the city put together and had also known Stiles and Scott since High School (actually, they went a bit more back, but Jackson liked to deny it for the sake of being rude). He wore a dark Prada suit, and on his face he had a smirk that Stiles could swear had its own trademark by now. Typical of rich, preppy, hot douchebags. Stiles would never admit it but the minute he saw Jackson at the start of sophomore year was the moment his life changed forever and everything became a world with a sky full of rainbows that screamed G-A-Y. Who could blame him, though; one had to be blind not to see it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, look out, it’s the Devil wearing Prada” Stiles mocked, looking at Jackson’s clothes.

“He wears it ‘cause he can afford it, which is more than what I can say about you” he shot back. “You guys must be happy, I can feel it already, and it’s going to be like a better sequel to Dumb & Dumber”.

“You just wish you had a best friend like I do” Stiles said.

“Aaaww” Scott said, grinning, earning an eye-roll from Jackson. “That’s so nice”

“Twenty years and counting, Scotty, I wouldn’t change them for the world”.

“You’ve worked hard on those years”.

“Hey, it takes two. And…”

“Ok, stop it” Jackson said. “Get a room or something cheaper like the dumpster in the back alley”

“At least I wouldn’t be alone and sad like you”.

“You’re one to talk. Your right arm’s getting bigger than your left arm”.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Guys, come on, not now”.

“Sorry, McCall, I’m so insensitive” Jackson said, and took out a ten dollar bill from his pocket, offering it to him. “Here, I’d like to contribute to the needy, that should cover a night in the motel outside of town”.

“Can I get arrested if I kick his ass?” Stiles asked. He looked around to see where his father had gone, and saw that he had gotten distracted, talking to some reporters. “I don’t think anyone would notice. I don’t think anyone would _car_ e”.

“I could take you and you know it” Jackson said. “Which is actually sad for a detective, isn’t it?”

“Depends on how exactly you’d take me” he replied, with a smug grin.

Jackson seemed taken aback for a second or two, as did Scott, although he seemed a bit more scandalized. But then Jackson’s smirk returned, almost looking like a smile, for he seemed quite impressed. “Well, what do you know, Stilinski knows how to flirt!”

“Of course he does!” said a female voice behind them. “I taught him”.

Lydia Martin stood there looking unamused, her head a bit tilted to the left and her arms crossed in a way that reflected disinterest but also authority. She had long reddish hair (strawberry blonde, to be quite specific), her make-up was impeccable and her own suit looked nothing far from perfect. Also the guys’s classmate, she graduated early and was appointed captain of the BHPD with little practice on the field. Not that she needed it anyway, she was one exceptional case. Object of admiration (crush) of Stiles from the third grade to the early years of High School, and Jackson’s ex-girlfriend from junior year, she was quite acquainted with her subordinates, who shared with the rest of the officers the discreet fear of the epitome of empowerment and respect she had become.

“Lydia” Jackson greeted.

“Jackson, the ceremony is over, and I would like to talk to my detectives in private about their first case as a group. So, unless you have something else to do here, I suggest you to beat it” she bluntly said.

Jackson looked a bit surprised, but nodded, gave Scott and Stiles a glare, and left.

“Little harsh, Lyds” Stiles said.

She shrugged. “It doesn’t offend him. Trust me, he only feels bad when I talk about my more-perfect-than-him husband”.

“Are we ever going to meet him?” Scott asked. “What did you say his name was?”

“Jordan” she replied. “And never. He’s too pure for a place like this”.

“But…”

“Mm. Assignments” she interrupted. “The Chief is shooing the press away so we can get back to work. Now, Stilinski, you only caught a simple kidnapper, do you think you’re up for the big guns?”

“I think I can handle a few baddies, what’cha think, Scott?” Stiles said confidently.

“Yeah, absolutely” Scott agreed.

Lydia, however, gave them a fake smile before turning serious again. “This is no ‘baddie’. Chris Argent called a few minutes ago to report the murder of his bodyguard. Found him in his family’s warehouse, in a pool of blood, couldn’t do anything. Forensics is already there, you need to get Argent’s statement and begin an investigation. Get to work”.

Turning on her heels, she left them alone.

“Awesome” Scott said, as he and Stiles put on their coats and grabbed their badges and guns. “Our first case together and it’s with the Argents”.

“Careful, man” Stiles said. “I’ve heard of them. Dad says they are pretty conniving and dangerous. Anything is a possibility with them. Like, for example, Chris Argent could have easily murdered the guy”.

“Why would he murder his own bodyguard?”

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe he stole money from them or something? I’m just saying, I mean, isn’t a bodyguard supposed to be with you 24/7? How come the guy oh so conveniently leaves Argent ‘alone’ and ends up dead?”

“You make a point there” Scott said. “We’ll see what else we find there”.

“Yeah, I’m just really happy I’m doing this with you, buddy”.

“Me too. Hey, about what Jackson said earlier, do you think it’s time that maybe we try dating?”

“What, like, each other?”

Scott’s face twisted. “No! I mean other people”.

“Scotty, please, you’re hurting me”.

“Stiles…”

Stiles sighed. “I don’t know man, maybe? If anyone gave me the time of day, that is”.

“Hey, come on, anybody would be lucky to have you” Scott encouraged.

“Yeah, I know” he replied, as they went to the door of the building. He sighed dramatically. “It’s just, Scotty, I put myself out there, you know, I’m on the menu, but no one seems to be hungry”.

* * *

“I’m fucking starving” said Derek as he sat in the car next to his uncle Peter, driving around the city.

Both men, one older than the other, were sitting in the backseat of a small black limousine. Not those large ones used by celebrities or newly-weds, this one was much shorter. Its windows were polarized and the inside had been covered with dark grey leather that offered a sombre yet comfortable environment for the passengers.

Both were members of the Hale family, one of the most influential clans in Beacon Hills, alongside the Argents. They were the owners of The Wolf’s Lair, a franchise of impossibly exclusive restaurants across the biggest cities in the United States, the United Kingdom, the European Union and Australia. The name had been inspired by what Alexander Hale used to refer to his family back when he started the brand in 1835: the Pack. He had compared the hierarchy that existed in the family business to that of a pack of wolves, with the boss being an Alpha; the others, his Betas. The small pub in which he started soon grew, and by the time he had died and his son was in charge, the place had evolved into a favourite for the most fortunate of the population, expanding a few years later to the rest of the world.

Peter was now the head of the family, having taken over after the death of his sister Talia. He was a tall, vain man, with an air of mystery and something quite unclear that inspired little fear and much suspicion. He had always been like that, always up to something, to no good. He had ambition, and a hunger for power that inspired some and terrified others. Talia often used his “creepy” traits as a tool to intimidate her enemies. Because crime eventually found its way into the family, like it always does in a successful business. Power and money only made them bigger, and by the time of Talia and Peter’s grandfather’s death, they were classified as mob, but the name Pack always remained.

The other man was something else. Also tall, but broody (according to Peter) and rather handsome, Derek was a man in his late twenties far too complicated to even start to describe, at least for some people. He had black hair and short stubble, hazel/green eyes and thick eyebrows that dominated the expressiveness of his face; seriously, in one movement he could send an entire message and intimidate the toughest of thugs. That was pretty much why Peter always kept him around, or at least that’s what he told him, despite Derek not seeming that much interested in the family business (despite having been a business major in college).

Derek was the son of Talia, and, along with his sister Cora, was the only survivor of a fire caused in unclear circumstances, which had claimed the lives of his parents and older sister Laura. That night, Derek had managed to get Cora, who was only six years old at the time, out of the disaster unscathed, but his efforts left him with a few burns, the worst of them leaving a scar across his chest. As soon as he had turned to see where the rest of his family was, the mansion had collapsed and raised a cloud of smoke and dust that had him pass out next to his sister. When he woke up, they were in the hospital, and his family was dead.

The press had had a field day, with the tragedy having hit one of the two most influential families in the new Beacon Hills, and the oldest (and perhaps most important) clan in town. In her will, Talia had declared that she did not want her children to follow on her path should anything happen to her, but for them to follow their own and get a chance to have a better life, therefore granting the Alpha status to her younger brother Peter and leaving his eldest son Joseph as heir. Derek never forgave himself for not being able to save everybody, despite having only been sixteen years old. So he stayed, rebuilt the family mansion and let himself be kept around by his uncle, even after getting his degree.

“I think I’m in the mood for lobster at The Lair” Peter replied.

Derek rolled his eyes. That was something he also tended to do quite often. Age, trauma and bad company could take out someone’s inner bitch. “Let’s just go for a few burgers and go home, I think there’s a McDonald’s near”.

Peter looked at him as if Derek had personally offended him, his mother, and his greatest ancestors. That was something quite peculiar but natural about Peter: his mannerisms were marked with a humour that could go from light to dark in a second. It was actually a bit scary for some people. “I’m sorry, I must have heard wrong. Did you just say…? I’m not even gonna bother, no nephew of mine is going to eat with the poor”.

“That’s okay because we’re both going” Derek shot back, with somewhat of a grin (more like a twisted smirk) and pressed a small button. It let him communicate with the chauffeur, who drove the car in a cabin separated from the one were the bosses were by a wall. “Is, take us to Lakeview Drive, will you?”

“Copy” a voice sounded from the speaker.

“Copy. What is he, Agent 86?” Peter said. “You’re too soft for your own good. Hiring your best friend as bodyguard and chauffeur, that’s low”.

“Isaac is a good friend, he’s loyal and does a damn good job” Derek argued. “I’d trust him with my life”.

“Then you’re in for a quick death” Peter replied, taking out his phone after receiving a message notification. It was from his son, and had a link attached. He frowned. “Joseph says Yalkovich’s been arrested”.

“Told you. The man is an awful criminal. You should have let Boyd make him disappear when you had the chance” Derek said. Just because he wasn’t entirely a part of the family business did not mean he didn’t know about it. After all, he was Peter’s right hand. “How come he was arrested anyway? I thought you had the majority of officers in your pocket”.

“It wasn’t one of them” said Peter, still reading Joseph’s message. “It was some downgrade one, Stil… Stilinski”.

Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise. “The Chief of Police?”

“No, dumbass, I said an officer. That’s weird, it says here he’s been in the force for years, how come I’ve never heard of him?”

“Well, your own reflection tends to stand in the way of many more important things that actually deserve your attention”.

“There’s no picture. Hm, he probably doesn’t even know what he’s getting himself into. Have you seen anything on the news?”

“I don’t watch nor read the news, they distract me from what I do” Derek replied. “Besides, I got Isaac for that. He tells me some stuff that happens in the world and shit”.

Peter rolled his eyes.

“What, you planning on shaking him up a bit?”

“If he already arrested Yalkovich, then it’s a little too late” Peter said. “Yalkovich had connections. He could find and take whoever I told him. I need him free, there’s still work to do”.

“So what are you gonna do?”

Peter thought about it, for a moment. He glanced at Derek, at his phone, at the street, and at his phone again. “I’m gonna send Raeken”.

“Raeken?” Derek repeated, concerned. “You want to kill the guy?”

“No, no, never kill a cop” Peter replied. “Just maim or seriously injure”.

“Raeken is nuts” Derek insisted. “You once told him to ‘seriously injure’ some crook lawyer and the guy drowned him in the preserve”.

“Raeken is my best assassin, yes, but he’ll do what I say this time. At least I hope he does, heh. And who cares about some worthless lawyer? He had it coming anyway” Peter dismissed, and started typing on his phone, as the car arrived at McDonald’s. “I’m sending Raeken, end of story”. He reached out to press the button. “And Lahey, don’t you dare park here, I refuse to step foot in a place full of rats, that’s why Auto Service was invented”.

* * *

Stiles and Scott arrived at the Argent warehouse at noon. Their car had swerved a little bit, for it was old, but Stiles thought it added a bit of awesomeness to their presence. Scott didn’t think so, considering he had been the one who was driving and he almost crashed the car against some big, wooden boxes, close to the walls of the building.

Getting out of the car, Stiles took in the scene of his very first case.

It wasn’t too gruesome, or not as gruesome as Stiles expected, but it certainly wasn’t pretty. The warehouse had been built in an industrial zone, quite far from downtown, and surrounded by soil and grass, for it was a new sector. The doors were wide and high, and on the right side, next to the frame, a small plaque had been placed. It had the picture of the _fleur-de-lys_ , the symbol of France and the Argents, engraved on it, meaning it belonged to the family. Close to its walls were the big, wooden boxes that only God knew what they contained, maybe nothing and they had only been placed there either as decoration or to prevent the doors to be closed by the wind, but that was beside the point for Stiles. On the ground, in front of the doors, lay the body, covered by a white sheet, with a red stain on the part that covered the head. Some blood had been spilled on the soil, coming from under the head of the victim, and his hands and legs were spread in strange angles, maybe a product of him falling to the ground.

The forensic team had arrived way before them; they were taking pictures of everything that seemed quite suspicious, while some officers stood beside their cruisers, talking amongst themselves. Near them, with his hands in his jacket pockets, stood another man who watched the scene unfold, and not looking a bit interested in anything that was happening. He had short, grey hair, and a small beard, also grey. His eyes were green, and he wore a brown leather jacket, a white shirt, jeans and brown boots. The jacket covered the gun he had on his hip.

Stiles, followed by Scott, approached the body, crouching next to the head, and slowly removed the sheet that covered it. His forehead had a wound, which was still bleeding, and his eyes were wide open, as if he had been caught off-guard. That made Stiles wonder, that it had to have been something really, really unexpected for the poor bastard, considering his position. Some already dried blood had leaked also from his nose, staining his grey moustache, and his mouth was full of it.

Scott frowned, and gazed the potential trajectory the bullet might have followed, considering the angle the body was positioned in. It led to the wall of the warehouse, almost next to the small plaque of the _fleur-de-lys_. Scott walked towards it. There it was, embedded in the wall, the bullet.

“Hey, Stiles” he called, as he put on his white disposable gloves.

Stiles looked up and followed him. “What is it?”

“Got some tweezers or something?” he asked, after trying to pull the bullet out with his fingers. “I can’t grab it”.

“Nah” his best friend replied. “That’s okay, though. We can always cut off that part of the wall. What’s it made of, aluminium?”

“Metal sheet”.

“Yeah, we can’t cut it off. Better figure out how to take that bullet out, Scotty!”

Scott sighed. “Screw it, I’ll tell forensics to do it. They have the tools anyway”.

“What? Why can’t we do it?”

“Well, for starters, you want _me_ to do it. And second, don’t you think we should be talking to someone important? You know, the owner of this place and boss of the victim?” Scott tilted his head in the direction of the man, who hadn’t moved and wasn’t talking to the officers, but had started to look at them with curiosity and what seemed to be interest. It was a bit unsettling.

“Whoa, wait a second. Are _you_ being the voice of reason here? ‘Cause I don’t like it. Okay? I’m the smart one, you’re the cute one. Well, I’m cuter, but you actually get something out of being cute. Like that time in high school with the stripper?”

“We do _not_ talk about that stripper” Scott hissed, grabbing Stiles’s arm and moving him so they were showing their backs to the man. “And you’re getting off-topic. That guy has been staring at us for at least five minutes and it’s giving me the creeps, we should talk to him, see if he knows something”.

Stiles looked at him, a bit impressed and a bit shocked. “This is a new you, isn’t it?”

“It’s your first day” he replied, rolling his eyes. “And we are dealing here with the Argents. I do not want to look stupid in front of them. I already did in front of Finstock”. He started to walk towards the man.

Stiles followed him. “You have to admit, Mary being the thief was a little farfetched. She’s too sweet to commit a felony”.

Scott glared at him, but turned around again just in time to greet the man, now in front of them.

“I’m assuming you will be in charge of this case?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. I’m detective Scott McCall, this is my partner Stiles Stilinski”.

“Stilinski?” the man repeated. “As in Chief of Police Noah Stilinski?”

“He’s my father, not that it’s relevant” Stiles replied.

“Well, let me tell you that I’ve heard of you, detective McCall, but not of you, detective Stilinski”.

“He’s new, sir. First day on the field” Scott said.

The man gave them a smile. Or did he chuckle? “Ah, so fresh meat for the evil in this town? Congratulations. I have total confidence that you will find out who did this”.

“That’s the plan” Stiles said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name”.

“Chris Argent, at your service” he said, offering his hands to the pair, who each shook it. “The man murdered was my bodyguard, John Miranda, fifty-four, served in my family for twenty six years. He was planning on retiring next year”.

“At fifty five? Seems a bit soon” Stiles said.

Chris shrugged. “He started soon, he could leave soon, we didn’t mind. He wanted to see the world before he got too old. Those were his words, by the way”.

“Any idea of who could have done this?” Scott asked.

“Well, detective, to be honest, his job was to protect me, because if anyone has enemies, that’s me. I’m a businessman after all, with some success, I could say. I could not think of anyone who would want to hurt him, at least not in his professional life”.

“What about his personal life?” Stiles asked.

“I did not inquire. All I know was that he was going to ask for a loan at the bank for his plans. I told you he wanted to see the world, didn’t I?” Chris sighed. “Such a shame. He became somewhat of a friend to the family, after all this years, and to end up like this… Forgive me if I get emotional”.

“You’re fine” said Stiles, refraining from rolling his eyes a bit. Chris wasn’t even tearing up. “Do you know if maybe he was going to ask for money to another person? Or if maybe he was involved in any activity that could have meant his demise in the end? Maybe gambling, drug dealing, prostitution, you know? Those businesses tend to end in murders outside of warehouses”.

Chris grinned at him. “You certainly ask a lot of questions for a newcomer. But if I have to answer, no, I did not know if he was involved in any of those things, although I highly doubt it. He was a respectable member of society, and a very good person. I don’t think he was into them, nor that they came back to claim his life”.

“What about _your_ business?” Scott asked.

“Well, detective” Chris said, turning to him, still smiling. “My business builds and sells weapons to the government and other companies around the world. I think the rate of situations that end up in murder would be close to zero in our case”.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Close to?”

“Well, nothing is zero percent or a hundred percent in this life, isn’t it?”

“Right” Stiles nodded, although not fully unconvinced. He eyed the gun hidden by Chris’ jacket. “That yours?”

Chris looked down. “Ah yes! My personal design, although I’m afraid the bullets are the same as others. May I show you?”

Stiles shrugged. “Sure”.

“Really?” Chris asked, looking amused. “Aren’t you afraid I might shoot you?”

“Why would you?” Stiles replied, although his question seemed quite rhetorical. “Besides, if that happens, you are surrounded by officers and my buddy Scott will shoot you back”.

Chris chuckled, as he took out his gun. “Fair point. I take it you two are friends”.

“Yes” said Scott. Remembering what Stiles had said at the station, he suddenly got an idea. “It’s pretty. May we see the mag?”

“The magazine?”

“Yeah” Scott nodded, trying to seem nonchalant about it. “Just to see, you know?”

“Do you think I shot my own bodyguard, detective?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. While he appreciated Scott taking his suspicion into consideration, he was also sure that if he was right, something awful could happen in that moment. After all, Argent was armed too, who knew if he was something else up his sleeve.

Scott, however, didn’t seem too affected by Chris’ question, and remained calm and looking not that interested. “I just wanna see the mag”.

Narrowing his eyes, Chris obliged. He pressed a small button, and the magazine fell, and showed it to the boys. It was full.

“Huh” Stiles said. “Well, you certainly use regular bullets”.

“There are several kinds; I just use these because they are cheaper. Now, I could understand your suspicion of me perhaps being guilty, but now you see that’s not the case” said Chris. “Besides, I had nothing against John”.

“Sorry if we seemed to overstep, we’re just doing our jobs” Scott said.

“It’s alright” Chris replied, checking his watch. “Well, I have right now some business to attend to. Would that be all, detectives?”

“Yeah, I guess”.

“I think so, yeah”.

“Well then” he then took out something from his pocket, and offered it to them. “My card, if you need to contact me about this. Oh, and…” he glanced at Stiles, for Scott had taken the card. “Welcome aboard”.

As he walked towards his SUV, Stiles turned to Scott, who seemed thoughtful. “You don’t believe him, do you?”

“I don’t know” Scott replied. “He said he was friends with Miranda, yet he seemed hardly affected by his death”.

Stiles shrugged. “Not everybody reacts to it the same way, Scotty”.

“Yeah, but brutal murder? I would be shocked at the very least!”

“Hey, I’m all for the murderer being Argent, but we gotta at least, get some proof. We’ll just send the bullet to Ballistics to figure out what kind of bullet it was and where it came from and we’ll start from there”.

Scott nodded. “Fine. Hey, I think they managed to take it out of the wall. Let’s go”.

“Uh, uh, I don’t think so” Stiles said, grabbing Scott’s arm when he started to walk away. “They’ll give it to us later, once they register it and everything. In the meantime, there’s an All You Can Eat offer at Fatso’s and you are coming with me”.

“Dude, everything in Fatso’s is like 90% fat, 10% meat and 100% a promise to have all my arteries clogged before I’m thirty” Scott complained.

“That’s why we’re going! Come on. Besides, I wanna see if I bust my dad there, since I know he saw the ad yesterday”.

* * *

Nobody noticed the man entering the station, accompanied by two girls, one by his right side and the other by his left side. He had short, brown hair, which he had pushed back a bit, had very short stubble and blue eyes that just seemed to perfect his pretty face, and offered the opposite image of what his deranged mind truly showed. He wore a denim jacket that covered a green T-shirt, jeans and white trainers with black stripes. His muscled appearance was quite the magnet for females and a few males, but his nature often did the opposite.

So, as he walked in, he looked around, at the officers in their desks, not paying him nor his “little helpers” any sort of attention. That seemed to offend him in some sense, judging by his small frown. “I’m looking for Stiles Stilinski”.

Silence. Everybody turned to him, some not seeming to understand what the young man and his friends were doing there, announcing who he was looking for in a raised voice instead of approaching one of them to ask for help like a normal human being. Some others looked wary, already knowing who he was, what he did, and by whose orders he had come to their workplace. And yet no one said anything.

That seemed to upset the man more, for his face hardened, and he raised his voice again. “I said: I’m looking for Stiles Stilinski!”

“He’s not here” a voice said from the balcony. The station had on the floor the desks of the several officers that worked on their own cases, and by the sides were the cells where they kept anybody they arrested. Two doors at the end of the hall, one at each side, led to different rooms. At each side also were two staircases that led to a balcony and the second floor, where the detectives had their own desks in front of the captain’s office. And from the balcony the voice had spoken. Lydia had both her hands gripping the railing, as she leaned a bit, looking at the man and his companions with narrowed eyes. “Hello, Raeken”.

Raeken chuckled. “Cap. I already told you, you can call me Theo”.

She gave him a fake smile. “I’m on a first name basis with my friends only”.

“Wow, cap, you hurt me” he replied, feigning offence. “Look, I’m not here to cause any trouble. I’m just here because I need to have a word or two with detective Stilinski”.

“Well, I already told you, he’s not here. You just missed him”.

Theo chuckled again. “I don’t think you understand. See, my boss is a little upset because he arrested one of his employees, and he needs him free now. I’m just here to… Make him realise he made a teeny tiny mistake”.

“You’re just going to have to come again sometime. Say, never? That works for me, how about you?”

“You’re not funny, captain”.

“I’m not trying to be” Lydia said, starting to get annoyed. “Don’t think for one second that I’m stupid, Raeken. I know what you do. And I know what you’re planning on doing to Stiles and I’m not gonna let you”.

Theo shrugged. “You can’t prove anything. Perhaps you think I’m a cold-blooded killer, but I just want to compromise with him, you know? Make a little deal for Yalkovich’s release. He doesn’t have to lose his life, maybe a finger or a couple teeth”.

“Yalkovich was already taken to Steelgate Prison” she replied coldly. “He’ll face prosecution and will be put away for a long time”.

“Well, that’s just a shame” Theo sighed. “I guess I have no choice. Boss said to bring Yalkovich or bring blood, and since Stiles isn’t here…”

He quickly drew his gun at the balcony and fired, only missing Lydia by a few centimetres. Lydia, however, threw herself to the right, taking out her own gun and shooting, managing to hit a column as she climbed down the staircase. With another shoot, barely missing Theo but making him lose his balance a bit, she managed to open the door on the right, running inside.

Noticing other officers had stood up, Theo turned to them, for he knew most of them were under Peter’s control. “Nobody moves! Nobody fucking moves! Whoever does, dies!” He glanced at his friends. “Come on!” They ran to the door on the right.

The small hallway had been blocked by some boxes and old files Lydia had thrown as obstacles for them. A few wooden chairs lay blocking another doorframe. Theo kicked them.

In the meantime, Lydia had gotten to the parking lot, under the building. She hid behind a waggon, gun drawn and ready to shoot, just waiting. And then, she heard footsteps approaching…

Theo and the two girls arrived, and noticed the lack of movement.

“Do you think she escaped?” asked one of the girls.

“I don’t think so” the other replied. “I didn’t hear any cars”.

“Shh” Theo said, gun raised in his hand, as he started slowly walking towards the cars. He shot once to the left, and then to the right, but there was no other noise than the echo the bullets had made as they were fired and hit the floor. “Hey cap, are you there?” he called. “You might as well cooperate, make this easier for us…” _BANG._ “You know how Mr Hale gets when things don’t go his way!”

The trio turned around when they heard footsteps near them. An officer had arrived to the place, having entered through the gate, which was always open for cars to get in an out. She had a half-eaten sandwich in her hand, and frowned when she noticed them. “Hey! What do you punks think you’re doing?”

_BANG, BANG_

The girls shot at her, hitting her legs and she fell to the floor, dropping the sandwich and the gun she had barely managed to take out. Lydia took advantage of the moment, and shot at them from behind, managing to hit one girl on the shoulder and the other on the arm. Theo turned around too, and shot his gun several times as Lydia ran, shielding herself with the cars parked, until she reached her own car and opened its door. “It’s Stiles or blood, captain!”

Using the door as a shield, Lydia shot again, hitting the girl with the wounded arm again, this time on the shoulder. Theo got a bit distracted by the surprise, and Lydia got in her car, started the engine, and fled the parking lot, as Theo and the girls shot at her, uselessly, for she managed to escape.

Theo sighed in defeat, but heard a small noise, making him turn around. The officer was on the floor, having managed to sit and grabbing one of her legs, trying to apply a bit of pressure on its wound, gasping in pain. She glanced at Theo as he approached her, with his gun in his hand, pointing at her, and she could only raise one of her hands, trying to make him stop. “No… Please…”

_BANG_

The officer was hit on the head and dropped to the floor, dead. Theo took a deep breath, glancing at the hurt girls.

“Let’s go”.

He walked over the body of the officer, and left the parking lot through the gate, followed by the girls, each grabbing their wounded limbs.

* * *

In a dark room, a man stood, looking through the window. He was old, with grey hair on the sides and back of his head, bald on the top. His hands were behind his back, and his look was stern. When he heard the door open behind him, he turned around, with an eyebrow raised and a small smirk forming.

“Is it done?”

Chris looked at him from the doorframe, and nodded. “Miranda is dead. He won’t be a problem anymore”.

“Ah, he was never a problem, he was just a nuisance. Owed money to everybody and put excuses for everything. The guy had to go” he dismissed. “I hope you weren’t the one who pulled the trigger. You know what I think of us getting our hands dirty for some worthless bloke”.

“Don’t lie to yourself, Gerard. The Devil and you are basically the same person”.

“Ha!” said Gerard, smiling. “So my son is now a jokester”.

Chris smirked. “If you really must know, no, I did not kill the guy. I had someone else do it for me”.

“And you called the cops”.

“I did”.

“So I take it they will rule it a suicide and we can all move on”.

Chris raised an eyebrow. Gerard frowned at his expression. “What?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy. They didn’t bring in the usual guys. These two were some kids; one of them is new I think”.

Gerard’s frown hardened. “New?”

“I still threw them off, don’t worry about it” Chris reassured.

“What are their names?” Gerard demanded.

“McCall, and the new one is named Stilinski”.

“The Police Chief’s kid?”

“Yes”.

Gerard nodded, looking thoughtful, and turned around to look through the window again. From his penthouse he could see the entire town and the surrounding forests back in the day, when Beacon Hills was nothing but a small, unimportant town. Now, he could only see building after building, which blocked the view to the forests. Most of them had remained untouched when the city had expanded, in favour of an upwards growth. Gerard just sighed.

“That _is_ going to be a problem”.

* * *

The Hale Mansion was a big building, with most of its former beauty recovered after the fire. It had three floors, with a wooden porch at the centre and faint purple walls that contrasted the forests that surrounded the house. The smaller windows on the top floor had still small stains from the carbon and smoke from that dreadful day, but the bigger ones had been cleaned and restored, just like the wooden walls and the rest of the structure.

The car parked in front of the house, and a tall, blond (brownish), curly-haired boy, who wore a dark suit and sunglasses, got out of the driver’s seat. He rushed to the back and opened the door on the right side, letting Peter get out, who clapped his shoulder. “Isaac”.

Next, Derek came out of the car, and gave him a small smile in appreciation, before turning to his uncle. “See, it wasn’t so bad”.

As Isaac went to unlock the front door, Peter rolled his eyes and put his hands in his stomach. “I’m going to be sick”.

“From a McDonald’s burger?”

“Anything that costs less than twelve dollars makes me want to puke”.

Derek opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by Isaac, who had come out of the house with an iPad in his hand. Isaac and Derek went way back, having known each other since middle school, and the boy was the only one who knew exactly what went on in the Hale’s household and never once judged his friend for it. Isaac came from a broken family, with a dead mother and an abusive father, and little money. He had lived that life in secret until one day he showed up at school with a shiner he had tried to hide using his father’s new mistress’ make-up (which he failed), and a scar on his left cheek. Derek had pestered him about it all day until Isaac finally broke down and told him the whole story. Derek had been livid with rage, and his first instinct was to go to his mother and ask her to put a hit on Isaac’s father.

Talia, while indignant, explained to him that his request was more likely to do more harm than good, including a risk to lose his best friend in his attempt to protect him. So, instead of sending an assassin, Talia went to the police. Isaac’s father was arrested and put away, and, having no other close family, the Hales took Isaac in. While Talia treated him like a son, Isaac never wanted to live under her roof for free, trying to contribute in any way he could, from helping setting the table before dinner to getting a small job as a newspaper delivery boy. It all ended, however, when Talia died in the Hale fire. Sensing Isaac’s fear of being thrown out by Peter, Derek stepped up and convinced his uncle to keep Isaac, despite Peter’s disliking of him (he had not approved of Talia’s “softness”). Peter accepted, under the condition that Isaac had to work for him when he finished school. Derek compromised with him by saying that Isaac would work for him instead, not Peter, not wanting his friend to become an assassin or some other sort of low-life worker. And so, Isaac became his bodyguard and assistant, ranking higher than other employees because of their close friendship.

“News” he said, giving him the tablet. Peter approached to see. “There’s been a shootout at the BHPD”.

Derek frowned as he read. “One officer dead, damages in offices and the parking lot, captain Lydia Martin was targeted too, but she managed to escape. According to witnesses, the attackers claimed to be looking for newly-appointed detective… Stiles Stilinski”. He looked at the picture on the article. It featured a boy he had never seen before, or maybe he did but never paid him enough attention. He looked young, a bit skinny, with brown eyes and hair all over the place on his head, as well as pale skin dotted with moles everywhere. He had a smile that made him look quite childish, and wore a dark coat, a white shirt and black tie, as he had his new badge in his right hand. The picture had clearly been taken that morning, during the press conference at the station that Derek had missed. And if he was honest with himself, the new detective looked kind of cute. But he wouldn’t admit it, especially in front of his uncle, mortal enemy of law enforcement.

Peter groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in dismay. “Fucking Raeken”.

As in cue, a blue truck arrived to the clearing where the house was located. It halted to a stop into a spot with some mud, splashing out some of it on Isaac’s shoes (“Oh crap!” he complained, as he moved away). The door opened and Theo jumped out of the car, looking smug and nonchalant, as if he hadn’t come from a shootout at all.

Peter, however, looked furious. He snatched the iPad from Derek’s hands and showed it to Theo. “What the hell is this?”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s an iPad, boss. We use it to…”

“Shut the fuck up” Peter hissed. “And don’t you dare play dumb with me. I specifically told you to bring me Stiles Stilinski, and you go and murder some cop and attack the captain?!”

“Oh, yeah, she was not expecting that” Theo chuckled. “See, boss, you told me I had to bring you Stiles Stilinski or bring you blood. I figured, since Stilinski wasn’t there, I could bring you Lydia Martin’s blood instead. But, unfortunately she put on a hell of a fight, so I brought you the cop’s blood”. He went to his car and leaned inside to grab a piece of cloth he had in the glove box, and showed it to Peter, who glared at him.

“Please tell me you didn’t make a stop to stain that thing with the cop’s blood”.

Theo laughed again. “Oh no, this is Janice’s. And a bit of it is Joyce’s. They were hurt so I had to take them to Strangeland”.

“Strangeland? The limit between the city and the forest?” Derek asked. “But there are no hospitals near”.

“Hospitals? Oh no” Theo said, shaking his head. “They were hurt. Bad. So I finished them off and dumped their bodies into the river”.

At this point, Peter was just face palming. “Beat it before I dump _your_ body into the river”.

Theo chuckled. “Sure boss. Hey, don’t be a stranger and call me again if you need me for anything else. Still need me to catch Stilinski?”

“I told you to, didn’t I?” Peter said. “Just… Wait for my call. Now go before I change my mind and murder your ass here”. He smirked. “I’ll sell your truck to the Argents”.

“I’m out of here” Theo said, and jumped on his truck. He started backwards, splashing more mud that somehow fell again on Isaac’s shoes (“Seriously?”) and sped away, leaving tire marks on the ground.

“One day, I’m gonna kill him” Peter said. “He’s a bad experiment. The worst”.

“Just because he’s crazy you can’t say he’s an experiment” Derek replied, as Isaac took the tablet from Peter to give it to him and glared at his dirty shoes spitefully.

Peter seemed to want to respond, but refrained from doing so. Instead, he shook his head and turned to Isaac, looking judgingly at his shoes. “Take them off if you’re coming into the house” he said, and stormed in.

Isaac sighed, as he went to the porch to take his shoes off. “Both your uncle and Raeken are mad as fuck”.

Derek didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at the picture of the boy that, if Derek really believed, was smiling at him.

* * *

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you talked me into having those dumplings, ugh” Scott groaned as he clutched his stomach on the passenger seat, while Stiles drove them back to the station. The All You Can Eat offer at Fatso’s had been, literally, all one could eat, and that meant not only their usual burgers, hot-dogs and fries, but also several other kinds of food, like pizza, churros, ice cream, dumplings, even fruit. Unfortunately, the quality of the food was another thing, and Scott couldn’t think of anything other than questionable.

Stiles, on the other hand, looked completely normal as he drove the cruiser. “Don’t be such a baby, I told you most of the food in Fatso’s was fat”.

“ _I_ said that!”

“Whatever. Come on, admit it. You liked it. Otherwise you wouldn’t have eaten that much”.

Scott grumbled something, but Stiles didn’t hear him well. So he put his hand next to his ear, and leaned a little bit to the right, not so much so he wouldn’t lose focus on the road. “What was that, Scotty?”

“Fine, I liked it” Scott said begrudgingly. “I do not like how I feel now, though. Fatso’s food is shit”.

Stiles chuckled. “Don’t worry, dude, some rest and you’ll be good as new… What the hell happened here?”

As they approached the station, Stiles noticed the presence of too many people outside. An ambulance, people from the Criminalistics Division, forensics and curious watchers had gathered around and made noise as they discussed what had happened.

Scott looked at them. “Forensics? Someone has died inside?”

“Only one way to find out” Stiles replied, parking the cruiser and getting out, followed by Scott. They made their way into the crowd, managing to reach the entrance, just as a group of forensics were taking out a stretcher from the building, where lied a body covered by a white sheet, with bloody stains on the head and legs. “One of us?” he asked, after showing his badge.

“I’m afraid so” the forensic replied. “We found her in the parking lot, the one in the basement”.

As they left, Stiles turned around and spotted an young officer. Signalling Scott to follow him, Stiles approached and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Captain Martin, where is she?”

The young policeman looked a little shaken up. He was young, perhaps the youngest in the force. His eyes were blue and his hair a bit spiked, and his childlike features made him an adorable being. Well, except when he got angry which, at the moment, wasn’t the case. He seemed very nervous. “I-I don’t know, sir. All I know is that some guy entered, shot at her but failed, and followed her to the basement where he killed Smith but the captain escaped. I don’t know where, I…”

“Hey, it’s okay” Scott told him, putting his hand on Stiles’s shoulder to stop him from pressing the boy too hard. “Where were you?”

“I had finished a round outside; everybody was here when I got here”.

“Do you know when all this happened?” Stiles asked.

The officer shook his head. “Maybe an hour or so ago”.

Scott frowned. “Do you know anything else?”

“Uh… oh!” the boy said, looking at Stiles. “The attackers were looking for you!”

Stiles’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Me? Why the hell were they looking for me?”

“Because of Yalkovich” said another voice.

The three men turned around to see a very angry Lydia approaching them. She looked at the young officer first, and gave him a small smile.

“Are you okay, captain?”

“I’m fine, Dunbar, thanks for asking. Give me a minute with the detectives, will you?”

Dunbar nodded shyly and left. Lydia sighed. “Ah, Liam. Such a sweetheart”.

“Lydia” Stiles said. “What did you mean they were looking for me because of Yalkovich?”

“Well, by arresting him, you pissed off some dangerous people” she replied. “They sent an assassin here to get you. My thoughts are that you could have been either kidnapped and gotten threatened, or just killed”.

“Damn, killed on my first day as detective, that would have been so sad” Stiles muttered.

“Do you know who sent him?” Scott asked.

“I do” Lydia said. “The Hales”.

Stiles frowned at her. “The Hales are after this? They sent this assassin to get me, and when I wasn’t there, they tell him to attack you and kill Smith?”

“Oh no, that was all the assassin” she replied, showing them a picture on her phone. “Theo Raeken. Completely deranged, murders for pleasure, and he’s unstoppable. I wouldn’t discard him coming back, he was really determined to either bring you to his boss, or bring him blood. His words, not mine”.

“Ugh, just what I needed” Stiles groaned. “Not even twelve hours as detective and I already made enemies. Dad’s gonna be so proud”.

“Oh, that reminds me, call him” she said, starting to walk away. “He sounded very worried on the phone”.

“Where are you going?” Scott asked.

She turned around and gave them a look. “To my office, obviously. In fact, come with me. I’ll give you a lesson about who we are dealing with”.

Stiles looked outside for the last time, as Scott followed Lydia to her office. He saw how Smith’s body was put into the ambulance, as people took photos and the press started to arrive. Walking away before they could get to him, he started to realise what he had gotten himself into.

*******

**On the next TLITD:**

  * **Lydia shows Stiles and Scott who the enemy is.**
  * **Derek and Isaac go out.**
  * **Jackson tells Stiles a secret about the Hales.**
  * **Two couples meet for the first time.**



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and thanks for reading!


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